America Declares War
by CharmSpirit
Summary: On this day, America changed.


**A/N: Hello Hetalia community! This is my first fanfiction for Hetalia (well, that I'm publishing, anyways) and I actually made it a while ago, but I'm just now getting around to posting it. It's based off of a comic I read on deviantart (I couldn't find the link; I'm so sorry!), so the idea and things like that go to the maker of that comic. All reviews are welcome! :)**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Hetalia, it would probably be a lot more serious and history-ish than it is now...**

It was War Meeting Day. Once a week, every week, until World War Two was over, the Allies met in a small meeting room and discussed how things were going. Usually it was on a Saturday. Usually someone popped up sporting a new wound. Usually, as things went along, the mood turned from optimistic to downright somber as the Allies realized how much stronger the Axis were than them. Usually it was just England, Russia, China, and France.

Until today.

"Alright, well… We've come here to discuss our next move, right? So… China, what have you got for me?" England began, waving the one arm he could use (the other was currently bound in a sling) towards Yao.

"What have you got for _me_, aru?" China replied, though his tone lacked any of its usual irritability. "Japan gets stronger each day, and I've lost almost fourteen million people. We need to do something about Japan's invasions to my country."

England nodded. "Noted. We'll figure something out for that after everyone's spoken." Turning to Russia, who had been sitting quietly with that creepy smile on his face, England continued, "How about you, Russia?"

"All is good, da. Germany has learned to stay out of my territory after what I did," Russia said, smiling and beginning to emit that dark aura that made England immediately lose his nerve to talk to him.

"Er, right…" England said, shifting uncomfortably. He decided to turn his focus to the next person. "And, France…"

England slowly trailed off as he surveyed the Frenchman. France had by far gotten off a lot worse than the rest of them; his eyes were hollow, he had bandages and casts covering the majority of his body, and his whole face lacked that usual pizazz that seemed to follow him around wherever he went. All in all, he looked blank and beaten. England's eyes softened and, after a moment, he said, "Ah, just do what you can, France…"

France made no acknowledgement that he had heard England except for blinking his soulless eyes, and the rest of the Allies, taking that as confirmation that it was time to move on, turned back to England.

"Alright, well, as for me, I'd like—" England cut himself off as he heard a small c_reak _coming from behind him. Turning around curiously (his hand twitching towards the knife he always carried with him) England stood in shock as the door to the meeting room was slowly opened, and none other than the broadly grinning America stepped in.

"Hiya, folks!" He said cheerfully, sliding into the meeting room and smiling at all of the shocked occupants. "How's it going?"

"A-America!" England said, recovering first and finally glaring at his former colony. "This is a War Meeting!"

America's face brightened even more. "Great! Glad I found the right place, then."

The Allies watched in shocked silence as America heaved up a heavy duffel bag and began rummaging through it, pulling out a map, some pens, and a few tacks. America spread out the map in the middle of the table and drew circles around the capitals of each of the participating countries, adding a crude swastika to the Axis and countries currently being taken over by the Axis. As America did this, however, England noticed something.

America's hands were shaking.

Yes, it had to be… The map was trembling ever so slightly, and America's handwriting was slightly more scraggly than usual. England's eyes slowly travelled up America's form (which was easy to do without being creepy, thank you very much; he was standing behind his former colony) and finally rested on his head, wear his sight sharpened and his eyes widened.

America was bleeding.

Right in front of his ear, red blood trickled down, getting tangled in the Americans hair. Easy to miss since his hair seemed to be absorbing most of the blood. England instinctively started forward, reaching his hand out to touch America.

"America…" He said, still advancing forward. "You're bleeding…"

And then something happened that England would never forget. America whipped around, and next second England found himself face to face with the barrel of a gun, pointed right at the bridge of his nose.

"Don't touch me." America said, his voice raspy, his eyes dark and wide with fear. England stood for a moment, face white with terror, before he realized something…

Face hardening, England folded his arms and glared at America in disapproval. "Don't you dare point that bloody thing at me, young man," He said, no longer fazed by the gun pointed at him. "You know better."

America's gaze faltered, and England saw the wildness leave his eyes, to be replaced by dismay.

"A-Arthur, I'm so… I didn't mean to! I don't know what happened, I just thought I… God, I'm so sorry, Arthur…"

"I understand," England cut in. America looked up at him questioningly, still looking guilty from the previous scene. But England paid this no mind and continued.

"You've been attacked, haven't you? By one of the Axis. Today was the day you realized that you could get hurt like the rest of us, isn't it? That you aren't untouchable. That you have a reason to be afraid."

America stared at England, transfixed, and the whole room was utterly silent. England gazed at America, his eyes closed, as if remembering something. He then opened them again, and America was startled as the sharp green met his eyes, and he knew England's next words were a whole new milestone for him in his short, exciting life. This was one war he wouldn't be recovering from in a few months.

"And it changed you."

England was relaxing in his sitting room, enjoying a cup of tea, when he thought that it might be a good time to check up on the newspaper. So, standing and crossing the room to get his copy of the London Times, he picked up the newspaper and glanced at the front page.

England stood frozen, slowly placing his teacup on the side-table and scanning the article. A small, grim smile spread on his face, and he let out a sigh as the phone rang, already knowing exactly who it was.

Picking up his telephone, England continued to smile darkly as he said, "Hello, America. The next War Meeting is this Saturday at six o'clock, and we expect you exactly on time."

For, on the front page of the London Times, and probably every other newspaper in the world, read the headline:

**U.S. Declares War**


End file.
